storybooks.

you weren't mine to take,
but that never stopped me.
i made sure to always leave something lingering
in the spaces
between you and i.
the spoken words were proof.
i had you.

without a glance to speak of,
you couldn't stop.
following the trail of breadcrumbs
i trailed behind me.
surrounded by all of those story books.
you needed it, like a drug.
the spoken words were proof.
i had you.

current. present. as we speak.
how old you've already become.
as if something were taking the life out of you,
or someone.
you trip over them on a daily basis, my words.
you grab at them like an animal.
ferocious.
the spoken words are proof.
i have you.

silly, silly, how it goes. where i'll stop, nobody knows.

i have mastered the art of wedging and making you smile.
my greatest feat, my greatest talent, however,
is playing with your hearts.
like picking the petals off flowers.
"you love me, you love me not..."

this is my game.
it's what i'm good at, anymore.
a silly past-time, leading
me nowhere in particular.
nowhere.
anywhere.


we are not the same.